


Secret Lagoon

by Jaune_Chat



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fake Marriage, Female Friendship, Sharing a Bed, sharing a hotel room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 06:26:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16153463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaune_Chat/pseuds/Jaune_Chat
Summary: After Jemma Simmons' extraction from her position undercover at Hydra, she and her rescuer Bobbi Morse have to lay low at a hotel until it's safe to return to SHIELD.  With all that time together, they get the chance to know each other a whole lot better...





	Secret Lagoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [monanotlisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monanotlisa/gifts).



> Diverges immediately from the end of "A Hen in the Wolf House, " Season 2, Episode 5 of Agents of SHIELD.
> 
> Written for Fandom Loves Puerto Rico 2017.

Jemma was still giddy with relief when Coulson appeared on the monitor. Not having to monitor her surroundings every moment, seeing the SHIELD logo on the walls of the Quinjet, all of those spoke of safety, and she felt a tension inside her slowly, slowly relaxing.

“It’s good to see you, sir,” she said. “Unbelievably, incredibly good. I thought I was going to be dead for certain before Agent Morse got me out. She’s _amazing_.”

Coulson smiled, and beside her she could see Agent Morse looking pardonably smug, but also a bit relieved. Jemma had seen first-hand how Agent Morse could project whatever feelings were required for a mission, but right now she was letting things show, unlike May. Frankly, Jemma wondered if May even remembered how to let herself smile, at least some days. No one was a better team member, but Jemma was far better able to read the non-existent moods of bacteria than May. If Agent Morse was joining Coulson’s team, Jemma would be a very happy woman. With all the scrapes she managed to get herself in, she certainly would appreciate anyone would was good at getting out of them.

“Good to see you too, Simmons. Agent Morse, anyone following?”

“Not for now, but I’ll be checking again very soon. Sir, about the protocols-”

“I agree with you one hundred percent. We can’t let this base be compromised; it’s one of the last places we have.”

Jemma didn’t need to know the precise protocols Agent Morse was referring to to know their purpose, and she sagged a little in disappointment. And maybe also in relief.

“I assume we won’t be returning to base tonight?” Jemma said.

“Not for a while, sorry, Jemma. We’ve only got so many support vehicles, and if Hydra tracks this one, we’ll be out of a base and hurting for transport. I’m going to put you both on surveillance, research, and tracking. Jemma, look into the files you took out of the labs. Agent Morse smuggled some more data out that will be-”

“A lot more in your wheelhouse. I know enough to know what’s valuable, but you’re a lot deeper into this than I am,” Agent Morse said.

“And Agent Morse will be taking you both around to track down more Hydra operative names. There are operations in place you two can short-circuit, and it’s unlikely they’ll ever see you coming.” Coulson paused, and added reluctantly, “This will take a few weeks before we can get you back to the base, but we need to get this done.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Of course. Director, how is everyone?”

“Busy. Very busy. Hunter’s been working out well, and your friend Mac has been making himself invaluable.”

“No surprises on the second,” Agent Morse said, which made Coulson smile slightly.

“Fitz is working, making progress. Mac’s taken an interest in him, and it looks like that’s helping a lot.”

Simmons felt her heart do a little flip-flop at Fitz’s name, and a flush of something she didn’t want to examine reddened her face for a moment. There was far too much there to untangle, and the idea of weeks away from base but _not_ surrounded by people who wanted to kill her sounded perfect.

“That’s great to hear, sir.”

“Stay sharp. I’ll send you guys the files, Trip will drop you guys off with supplies, and then we’re radio dark except for pulsed communications on Skye’s channel until you get the recall, understood?”

Both women nodded briskly, and Coulson gave them an encouraging nod before the screen went dark.

\--

“This is it,” Bobbi said, turning into a very kitschy motel with a mermaid motif. _Secret Lagoon_ , the sign proclaimed in teal and pink neon, as a mermaid on a rock forever swished her tail back and forth, winking at the passers-by. 

Jemma regarded the place thoughtfully, and then looked just down the road at the business park where their Hydra target was waiting to be surveilled. “Do you think Hydra puts their outposts near motels like this just to discomfit anyone who comes looking for them?”

Bobbi’s shoulders shook silently, and then she threw her head back to laugh out loud, her newly-blonde curls cascading over the headrest. “That’s petty enough for Hydra. Well, the joke’s on them; I love mermaids,” she said, grinning.

“While scientifically improbable, and likely the result of fatigue combined with sightings of manatees by early mariners, I have to agree,” Jemma said.

Bobbi looked over at her as they parked. “Really?”

“What little girl wouldn’t like to be able to explore the depths of the ocean without having to leave your safety or observations up to the constraints of submersibles? Think of all the first-hand discoveries you could make!”

Bobbi smiled at that. “I was thinking more about pirates’ treasure when I was a kid, but I definitely wouldn’t mind being able to see the deep-sea vents first-hand.”

Jemma’s eyes widened in delight, and in between paying for the room, they chatted about extremophiles and chemosynthesis. Bobbi was careful to throw in references to Blue Planet and the Animal Planet channel whenever she thought someone might be eavesdropping; better to look like curious TV viewers who’d just discovered something on Netflix than trained scientists. Bobbi hadn’t gone beyond her degree in biology, according to the file on Jemma’s rescuer Coulson had thoughtfully provided on the Quinjet during their flight to the car, but she clearly hadn’t let her skills rust. She was an excellent undercover operative, but one never knew when they would get a glimpse of something useful, and need a different sort of knowledge to determine its value. 

The chat ended when they entered their room, both of them stopping dead to take in the décor. Blue wallpaper with cartoon sealife, furniture painted teal, shells stuck on _everything_ , stock prints of sunny beaches and lagoons, teal and green seaweed-printed carpet, and a single large bed with a huge scallop headboard and a metallic blue comforter.

Bobbi started to laugh. Jemma started to giggle.

“Dare I ask about the bathroom?” Jemma said, once she was able to breathe.

Pool-blue tile on every surface, blue sink shaped like a shell, a faucet that looked like a fish, blue commode, blue tub, tropical beach shower curtain, blue towels, enough shells to make doing one’s ablutions a hazard, and a picture of a mermaid on every wall.

“This is worth a month-long stakeout,” Bobbi said, and Jemma nodded.

“This is worth pretending to be an evil, treacherous turncoat. I should take pictures, Fitz won’t believe…” 

The joy drained out of Jemma’s face as she remembered why Fitz wouldn’t believe, or at least wouldn’t be able to say why he wouldn’t believe. Bobbi put the bag with their toiletries on the counter and didn’t say a word. _Fitz…_ Jemma set aside that pain with an effort. Coulson had said Mack had been helping him tremendously.

“Right,” she said, forcing a bit of cheer. “I’ll get set up.”

With the teal, octopus-printed curtains and blackout liners twitched firmly shut, Jemma pulled out her tablet and flash drive of stolen information she’d gleaned during her stay with Hydra. Once compared with SHIELD’s database, she should be able to find out if any more of Hydra’s experiments had been using SHIELD resources. Daisy would be doing the actual search, of course, with her powerful searching algorithms and SHIELD’s servers, but Jemma needed to define the parameters properly. So many similar experiments were buried under innumerable project names that she didn’t want the team chasing down leads they’d already exhausted. There simply were not enough resources or personnel to spend on that. 

Bobbi set their clothes in the closet and dresser, then set about checking their weapons. Jemma eyed the ICERs and the more lethal Glocks. She knew how to use both, but could certainly use more practice. It wasn’t practical to get it here, and she rather doubted they’d be taking the time to go to a shooting range. Bobbi laid out her battle staves next, two feet each of metal and carbon fiber, versatile, adaptable, and which left wounds that were easily explained by any number of improvised weapons to the authorities.

Bobbi had handled them with absolute confidence during Jemma’s rescue, taking down a half-dozen Hydra guards without a shot being fired. The memory of that danger made Jemma’s pulse race.

“If we have time, I’d like to learn how to use those… if you wouldn’t mind,” Jemma said.

“Absolutely,” Bobbi said, nodding. “If we can make sure we don’t break any mermaids, we can run through drills in here.”

“Thank you. The next time I’m running from Hydra, I’d like to have something more in my pocket than a flash drive.”

“Boots,” Bobbi said succinctly. “If you can work high leather boots into your wardrobe, they fit in there easily. Or if you can manage a structured coat; same principle as dressing to hide a firearm, but most people aren’t looking for battle staves across your back. I’ve also got a collapsible baton. Not as strong, but easier to conceal. _That_ you can fit in a back pocket.”

Thumping a few skulls certainly had its appeal, being as Jemma had been on the side of being prey too many times. The battle stave or baton was a bit ineffective for her to do a fast takedown compared to firearms, as she lacked May or Bobbi’s experience and upper body strength, but it was quieter than even a suppressed shot. Besides, you didn’t need a license for a baton, or have to remember the varying laws for carrying firearms across states or countries.

Bobbi finished her inventory, set about concealing the weapons around the room, and brushed her hands off, ready to go to the next task. “So, we have to keep track of Wishbone’s comings and goings and his meetings on company grounds,” she said, sitting down in the chair across from Jemma and flipping up her tablet to show the mission briefing on their target. A balding man with a thin build, he had a few scars on his hands that likely were from his “business trips” for Hydra. His current alias was Samuel Hawthorn, but that was as fake as his six other identities. Wishbone was the name he’d been tagged with in the files, and Wishbone he’d remain. 

“There’s a friendly agent in the FBI who’s doing an open tail of him whenever he’s out of the office, so Wishbone has gotten used to being ‘invisible’ at work. We get to record what he does from our vantage point.” Bobbi’s expression was neutral, but her tone of voice was exasperated.

“Thrilling,” Jemma said, with excess cheer.

“Very. But this’ll give Coulson enough time to get Hydra distracted so we can come back clean.”

“A month is excessive, _I_ say. But it’s plenty to sort out these projects and get them to Skye,” Jemma said, pushing a lock of dark hair behind her ear. They’d stopped at a nicer hotel once during their drive here, just long enough for Bobbi to change both of their hair color, along with their clothing, style, and luggage. She was still getting used to the very dark sable color that kept catching her eye.

“I’ll help. I didn’t go for four PhDs, but I can give these things a first look.”

“Please! I ran off with a small mountain of files,” Jemma said.

Bobbi pulled her sparkly green plastic chair, a twin of Jemma’s, closer to the painted seascape resin table and began to scan through the list. Jemma dove into the selected projects, some rather nauseating, to be certain they wouldn’t be telling Coulson to go after the same thing twice. Both kept working, with periodic checks to see if Wishbone had showed up, until Jemma’s stomach growled audibly. 

Bobbi shrugged on her jacket and indicated where she’d strapped an ICER under the table within Jemma’s reach.

“I’m going to grab up some food. We’ll lay in supplies tomorrow.” 

\--

“Shall I go ask for a cot?” Jemma asked, as she found the last used sauce packet from dinner and made certain it got to the trash.

Bobbi shrugged. “I don’t see why we need to. This bed is big enough to hold a whole yoga class.”

Jemma considered for half a second, then nodded. Not like she hadn’t shared beds with friends when she’d been younger and sleeping over at someone else’s house. Or when she’d gone to some conferences at the academy and it was either share a bed or not attend…

“Besides,” Bobbi added, looking mischievous, “I’m pretty sure this is the honeymoon suite. It’d look odd.”

That made Jemma giggle a little. “Hmm, I’d better get you a ring. Never let it be said I didn’t do things properly.”

Bobbi laughed and tossed Jemma a small bag. Jemma looked inside and raised both eyebrows in surprise.

“Part of my travel kit. Pick something.”

Jemma stirred the jewelry inside around, including an assortment of wedding bands, engagement rings, promise rings, and others. She glanced up at Bobbi, then picked out a ring with a small ruby, and a silver wedding band, with a matching one for herself. Bobbi stretched out her hand, looking like the picture of every diamond commercial fiancée, and Jemma obligingly slid the rings on her finger.

“You have fabulous taste, babe. I do.”

Jemma laughed as she put on her own ring, a little loose on her slimmer fingers. “As I said, proper.”

\--

The next few weeks they settled into the routine of watching Wishbone in his office, punctuated by the occasional trips to the store and the tiny excuse for a gym at the motel. It wasn’t much more than a couple of treadmills and an old Bowflex, but it was certainly better than nothing. It even had a decent view of Wishbone’s office, so at least they could tend to two tasks at once.

They had his routine down in two days, uploading them faithfully through Skye’s secure channel, adding in every visitor who stepped foot inside the office. By the end of the week it was clear Wishbone was entertaining a lot of clients, enough that on the second Friday after they’d arrived, they saw an FBI cruiser across the street and received a short message from Coulson.

“They picked Wishbone up at his apartment so they could raid his client list in peace,” Bobbi said with a sigh. From her expression, Jemma didn’t think that message included an invitation back home. Bobbi glanced over at her and nodded. “We’re not supposed to move yet. They want us to stay at least another week to avoid suspicion.”

“Thrilling,” Jemma said without smiling. “Not that I mind a vacation, but not when there’s so much to do!”

“The company’s great, but yeah, I was not made for sitting idle.” Bobbi suited words to action by pushing off the bed and going to grab her battle staves, tossing one to Jemma. “Shall we dance?”

Jemma caught it with only a little awkwardness and began shoving the furniture clear of the middle of the room. They’d been practicing a little each day, but without having to watch for Wishbone, now they could get in a better practice. “By all means!”

\---

Over the next few days, between practice, the two of them finished cataloguing the pile of projects Jemma had absconded with from Hydra. Of the two, Jemma liked the exercises more, if only for the confidence she was just starting to gain. Bobbi seemed to like having a pupil, but they couldn’t practice all the time. Sometimes she would restlessly twirl a pencil during their idle hours, doing flexibility exercises with her wrists and fingers to keep nimble.

“How did you pick those?” Jemma asked during a break in sorting through Hydra files. She nodded towards the staves, hidden under the bed where Bobbi was sitting.

“I was a baton twirler in high school marching band. I had someone get fresh who wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I ended up breaking my baton over her head. Then I went looking for upgrades, in weapons and dates both.”

Jemma laughed out loud. “I had no idea.” A spirit of impishness overtook her. “Are there pictures?”

“Of breaking it off almost literally with Tiffani? No, sadly. But there are pictures of me in a sequined leotard and a spangly skirt.”

Jemma looked at her hopefully. “Oh no, how dreadful. I must see them immediately.”

Bobbi grinned and hunted through some files on the cloud. While SHIELD’s files may have been compromised, Skye’s had not, and she’d set up their private accounts with her own brand of security. A minute later Jemma had a picture of a young Barbara Morse in sparkly silver and blue, a paste gem tiara pressed into her dark hair.

“Marvel at the glory,” Bobbi said, chuckling. “The only other time I’ve worn that many sparkles is when I’ve needed to play bait.”

“Very reflective,” Jemma said, and Bobbi grinned again. “I don’t have anything like that. I think there’s one of me as a ballerina when I was a little girl, but mostly it was pinafores and cardigans. My own lab coat when I turned eight, of course, from my mum.”

Bobbi made a gesture of grabbing hands, and Jemma looked up the picture. Bobbi looked delighted at a younger Jemma Simmons, very earnest in her lab coat and oversized goggles, pouring over a book nearly half her size. Jemma took her phone back to search for another picture, of her with her science fair project for the comparative osmosis rates for rat cell variations at age twelve. Then another at fifteen, with her lab partner Hilde, them arm-in-arm as they laughed into the camera at a school-sponsored dance. Hilde’s bright blonde braids circled her head like a crown, and she hugged Jemma close in the pictures.

“Cute!” Bobbi said with sincerity.

“Hilde and I had a few dates, but we lost touch with each other when we went to university. Then SHIELD came calling, and I met Fitz.” Jemma kept talking, glossing over Fitz’s name before that could bring the easy conversation to an awkward halt. “I’d like to know how she’s doing, but, well…”

“It’s hard when everything you do is classified, and Facebook only does so much. I used to keep different wallets to remind me who I was, back when I started undercover work.”

“So, was Hunter an upgrade from Tiffani?” Jemma asked.

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “Yes and no. We’re too much alike and too different at the same time.” 

“And Fitz?”

Jemma felt a jolt of emotion rock her, but didn’t try to change the subject to make Bobbi forget her line of questioning, because Bobbi would see right through it. 

“It’s… too much of a lot, really.” Jemma sighed and spent a moment tidying her desk before turning to face Bobbi. “He’s my best friend, nothing about that has changed. He’s one of the most important people in the world to me. We can talk to each other, properly talk, and not have to stop and explain everything again and again.” She flicked her eyes up to Bobbi’s, bit her lip for a split second, and made herself continue. “Or we could. But when we were at the bottom of the ocean, he tells me he loves me, right before he goes and nearly gets himself killed getting us out. And when he comes back…”

“Real romantic gesture, self-sacrifice and all,” Bobbi said, drawling it out, almost turning it sarcastic. Jemma could detect none of the faint disapproval she had thought she’d gotten from others on the team. Maybe there was something that _could_ have been more between her and Fitz but-. “He drops that bomb on you, nearly dies, and then comes back wounded. Sounds like an Oscar recipe for you to be the doting girlfriend at his side through his tragic recovery.”

Jemma looked at her hands, and finally let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “I wasn’t ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be. And I can’t, I just can’t-”

The others just wanted their team back, after Ward, after everything, and to have everything all broken up and jumbled along with the remnants of SHIELD, Jemma couldn’t blame them for wanting their FitzSimmons back. _Jemma_ wanted her FitzSimmons back. 

“I don’t want to be a coward,” she said softly.

“Oh, you’re not, trust me. Hunter and I ran at each other full tilt, got married before the week was up, and were into screaming matches before the honeymoon was done. You know you weren’t ready, and weren’t going to be made into what people were thinking you two should be. That makes your reactions smarter than mine. And a lot braver. Hollywood has a lot to answer for.”

Jemma let out a gasp and a laugh at the same time before covering her mouth with her hand. Bobbi just smiled. “Hey, if Mack’s taking care of him, Fitz is in damn good hands. Whenever you’re ready for whatever, you’ll go for it.”

Jemma tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sat with a little more ease. Bobbi’s eyes followed her motion, and she grinned at her. “I’m going to hit the pool. Care to join me?”

“I really think I would,” Jemma said, surprising herself.

Bobbi stood, stretching slowly, and crossed to the shell-encrusted chest of drawers to pull out something small and blue. “Come on, let’s take a swim and then we can order something in and toast our old flames.”

Jemma took that in the spirit it was meant, and also accepted the pink two-piece bathing suit Bobbi had given her. The pool was all theirs in the middle of the day, and Bobbi dove in like a dolphin, elegant and powerful, surfacing and somersaulting in the water like there was a camera watching her. Jemma eased in and started on languid laps, pausing to admire Bobbi’s grace and power, easier to appreciate when neither was under the pressure of self-defense. Bobbi stopped her acrobatics after a while to just float, and Jemma climbed out to dive now that she was properly warmed up. As she mounted the board, she saw Bobbi’s eyes were on her, keen as lasers. Jemma inhaled deeply and took the plunge, splitting the waters cleanly. When she surfaced, Bobbi looked very pleasantly surprised. Jemma swam over to her, about to make a teasing comment, when a shadow passed over them. 

Jemma looked up, annoyed, to see a rain-dark front of cumulonimbus clouds racing across the sky. Thunder growled, and both women scrambled out of the pool as lightning flashed. They still weren’t quick enough to beat the sudden downpour, shocking in its cold after the sun-warmed pool waters. Their towels were soaked, and both were chilled by the time Jemma got their door open.

Bobbi went straight to the bathroom and turned on the hot water, tossing their wet towels on the counter and digging up more of the scratchy-but-dry motel offerings. “Go warm up,” she said, trying not to chatter her teeth, “I’m next!”

“Don’t be silly! Just wear your suit and we’ll share. You’re nearly hypothermic and I doubt any of those seashells in here is space heater.”

Bobbi yielded quickly. With the two of them in the steaming water, the shivers stopped quickly. Jemma squirted a few dollops of shampoo into her hand as Bobbi stood in the spray, stared at her blonde hair, looking dark in the water, and tentatively reached up to put the shampoo in it. Bobbi glanced back, a small smile on her lips.

“Oh, don’t stop now! I don’t want green hair from the chlorine.” Emboldened, Jemma brought up both hands and massaged the shampoo through Bobbi’s locks. She swallowed, mouth dry despite the cascade of water, when Bobbi made a few soft groans. “You have thirty years to stop doing that.” Jemma had a laugh startled out of her, and Bobbi ducked back under the spray to rinse the suds out. Now more confident, Jemma slowly massaged in the conditioner the same way, and nearly yelped with Bobbi quickly switched places with her to return the favor.

Bobbi’s clever, strong fingers felt lovely, and Jemma let her head fall back into Bobbi’s hands as she massaged her scalp with the slippery soap, then conditioner. She would have been content to stay here for a while, but Bobbi patted her shoulder and switched places so she could rinse too, then finally shut the shower off and grabbed more of the blue towels to dry themselves.

Bobbi rubbed herself vigorously to keep warm after the shock of losing the hot water. “I’ll make us something hot, and we can get to bed.”

“Capital idea.” The rainstorm outside sounded like it didn’t intend to let up anytime soon. Jemma found the warmest clothes in her bag and changed quickly in the bathroom, taking a little time to comb her hair neatly. To her slight disappointment, Bobbi was already in loose flannel trousers and a t-shirt by the time she’d emerged.

Bobbi had been at the electric kettle, and presented Jemma wit a cup of honey-sweetened tea. “Come on, I’ve got something fun lined up,” she said with a grin.

They capped off the evening with a bad movie, some improbably thriller with too many coincidences, betrayals, shootouts, and wrangling over some vaguely scientific MacGuffin. Both laughed at Hollywood’s attempts at realism until the too-pat ending wrapped up and the end credits rolled.

Bobbi gathered up their cups, her fingers brushing Jemma’s as she did so.

“Warm again, I see,” Jemma said brightly.

“You too. At least it didn’t hail.”

“Small favors, much thanks. I certainly wouldn’t want you getting bruised!”

“Comes with the job,” Bobbi pointed out.

“Well, not this one,” Jemma said, smiling softly.

Bobbi dropped the Styrofoam cups into the trash can and slipped into bed, facing Jemma. “I guess not.”

Jemma turned off the light and settled down in her half of the bed, hearing Bobbi do the same, hearing her breathing in the dim light. She was warm enough now, but suddenly, and not so inexplicably, she wouldn’t mind being warmer. 

She inhaled slowly, then turned over to look at Bobbi in the dim light. Bobbi’s eyes were open, and Jemma froze. Bobbi smiled a little and slowly reached her hand out. Jemma didn’t move as Bobbi settled her palm against the side of her face, the pads of her fingers barely touching. The touch felt like a small jolt of electricity against her skin, and Jemma shifted closer, close enough to feel Bobby’s honey-scented breath. Slowly, eyes open, she closed the last fraction of an inch and kissed Bobbi. Bobbi moved her hand to the back of Jemma’s head and carded her fingers through her hair as she kissed her back, soft and sweet.

Jemma could feel the moisture from Bobbi’s mouth as she gently pressed her tongue forward, and opened up in anticipation. She shivered pleasantly as their lips and tongues played with each other, feeling warm as she had ever been, and tingling all over. Jemma reached out to rest one hand on Bobbi’s shoulder, sliding downward a little. Bobbi made a noise of clear assent, and Jemma boldly slid her hand to the hem of Bobbi’s shirt, and slid under it, gliding her fingers against Bobbi’s stomach. Bobbi laid back more, dragging Jemma with her, and Jemma pulled back from kissing enough to push the shirt out of the way. Bobbi pulled it off over her head quickly, and pulled her back down into a harder kiss.

Jemma slid her hand up, over Bobbi’s ribs, then settled on the curve of her breast, tracing it and feeling its softness, swirling her fingers in a spiral until she settled them on the hard peak of Bobbi’s nipple. She squeezed enough to make Bobbi moan into her mouth, then abruptly broke the kiss to descend onto Bobbi’s other breast with her lips. She sucked and traced with her tongue as her hands did the same on the opposite side. Bobbi’s left hand was in Jemma’s hair, holding her close, but the left was trailing down her back. Then around her hip, right on the waistband of Jemma’s pajama bottoms. 

Jemma pulled back enough to whisper, “yes!” before going back to the wonderful softness of Bobbi’s breasts, and gasped into her skin as Bobbi slid her hand beyond her waistband and discovered how wet Jemma had been for the past hour.

“Oh, baby…” Bobbi breathed, and groaned in desire. Her fingers rubbed at Jemma’s slick folds and then circled her clit before rubbing firmly, making Jemma grind down into her hand. Jemma lost track of what she was doing, hands spasming at Bobbi’s breast, at the feel of Bobbi’s expert fingers making her feel good. She clutched a little harder than she’d meant to, and Bobbi gave a hiss of desire. Jemma tried to focus and leaned up to attack Bobbi’s neck with long, languid kisses so she could get both of her hands on Bobbi’s beautiful tits. That meant she was on her knees, and Bobbi had free access between her legs. It was all Jemma could do to stay the course as Bobbi firmly pressed her thumb to her clit and slide two fingers inside her. 

Bobbi let her ride her fingers for long moments, and Jemma kissed and sucked at the skin of Bobbi’s neck in the same rhythm. Bobbi’s other hand had disappeared from Jemma’s hair, and had delved into her own panties. Jemma could smell her clean musk, and shivered in pleasure as Bobbi pinched her clit lightly and pushed in a little harder. Her heart was beating hard as she felt her pleasure mount, every pulse against Bobbi’s firm thumb driving her higher. Jemma gasped as she tensed and came around Bobbi’s fingers after long moments, half-collapsing on her and breathing into her neck. Bobbi followed a few moments later, arching up into Jemma’s embrace with a quiet moan.

Both women clung to each other for a long time, finally relaxing enough to wrap arms around each other and drift off into a doze, the rain pouring down all night.

\--

Coulson gave them the all-clear message they’d been waiting for three days later, and both Bobbi and Jemma were making sure nothing incriminating would be left behind at the Secret Lagoon.

“I’m actually going to miss this place,” Bobbi said, zipping up her bag decisively. 

“I know I will,” Jemma said, a little regretful that this idyll was at an end. Bobbi leaned over and gave her a quick kiss, twisting one lock of hair around her fingers before letting her go. Jemma entwined her hand before she would withdraw, and kissed the knuckle over where Bobbi had taken off the mock-wedding bands this morning.

“We’ll always have mermaids,” Bobbi said, smiling and placing the lock of hair back behind Jemma’s ear.

Jemma nodded back with a sad smile, set her bag on her shoulder, and prepared to go back home, and back into the fight.


End file.
